


The Middle

by Zymm



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/F, F/M, High School AU, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-25 09:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14973824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zymm/pseuds/Zymm
Summary: After her father’s untimely death, Feyre Archeron moves in with her sister and is forced to attend the high-profile Prythian Academy. After a rough start, she eventually carves out a place for her to wait out her high school days.That is, until she finds out her boyfriend is cheating on her, finds out (according to half the school) that she’s been getting down and dirty with all the football players Prythian Academy has to offer, and finds out that, interestingly, she’s not the only one there with something to hide.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m going to go ahead and apologize since this is pretty OOC for most everyone! I just needed to write the angsty teenage phase, full of bad decisions and experimentation. And sooooo much high school drama.

“What happened?” Lucien hissed.

He was leaning on the locker beside mine, his hands clenched into fists at his side as he glared down at me. His red, red hair was mused and unbrushed, like he’d ran here straight out of bed. Hell, even his uniform- gray slacks, the familiar dark sweater with the school emblem proudly shining on the left breast- looked like hell.

“What happened to  _ you?”  _ I shot back, shoving my AP Government and Politics textbook into my backpack. It took a few tries, with it jammed full of crumpled notes and forgotten pencils.

“Nope, we’re not playing that game today, Feyre.” Lucien snaps, grabbing the handle of my backpack from me. I wanted to shake him and tell him to kindly  _ leave me the fuck alone  _ but I knew he was only being what I needed- a friend.

“I take it you’ve heard the rumors?” I asked, sugary sweet, yanking the green backpack from his clutches. Lucien just frowned, falling into step beside me, sidestepping the crowd of students.

“Well- yes, of course….” He said, no longer urgent and angry. I cringed- I didn’t need his pity right now, or anyone’s, for that matter.

“I broke up with Tam- Tamlin, last night.” I told him, not daring to meet his eyes.

“He called me after.” Lucien said quietly. 

“And now these rumors have popped up. What a coincidence, right?” I spat, shaking my head. I knew the moment I gave in, the moment I lashed back at the rumors, it would be exactly what they wanted- me to be angry and hissing. But this was Lucien- he wouldn’t use that against me.

Even if he was Tamlin’s best friend.

“I doubt he started that.” Lucien said softly.

“Yeah, well who else would have it out for me?” I gritted my teeth.

“Well,” Lucien took in a deep breath, his tone changing to full-on mom mode, and I groaned out loud. It didn’t stop him from continuing. “You didn’t exactly come here and make friends.”

He was right, damnit. Ever since I’d moved here, I’d been thrown into the middle of Prythian Academy, and I hadn’t been very happy about it. I still wasn’t, but I supposed I’d thawed a bit, accepted my untimely fate. 

But I was most definitely not the only bitchy face at Prythian Academy- as one of the most prestigious, elite private schools on this side of America, it hosted nationalities from all over the world, all spoiled rich kids with more money than sense.

I didn’t fall into that last category, but that was another thing no one- other than Tamlin or Lucien- needed to know about.

“I don’t think anyone hates me  _ that  _ much.” I grumbled. Lucien raised an eyebrow.

“If you say so.” He shook his head. “So what are you going to do about it, then?”

“Do I have to have a fucking game-plan for everything?” I shot back. So, so Lucien- a plan for everything, a reaction for every situation. Ever studious and overthinking.

“I think you should just lay low for a bit. Let it pass.” He offered quietly.

I could feel stares on me as we walked, other students leaning in to whisper to one another. I gripped my textbook harder in my hands, feeling the hardback cover bend under the pressure. 

Like sharks, all of them- waiting for the first drop of blood and then  _ swarming _ . Rich kids and their fucking gossip.

“You’d think they’d have more important stuff to do.” Lucien grumbled, snarling at a pretty brunette who snickered in my direction. It made me grin a little, despite the shit storm I’d found myself in- Lucien Vanserra, future class valedictorian and hard-ass extraordinaire, threatening bitches for my sake. I loved that damn fox boy.

“You’ve got AP Calculus on the other side of the building in less than a minute.” I told him, wagging a finger in his direction. “Aren’t you a  _ little  _ worried you’ll be late?”

I see the look of pure terror flash across his face, the straight-laced genius in him bubbling up, but he masked it quickly.

“Nope. I needed to talk to you.” Lucien said firmly. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I’m hanging in there.” I shrugged. “Now go to class already.”

He tried to play it cool, sauntering off into the hallway- he broke out into a sprint a few seconds later.

I found my seat in AP Studio Art a moment later, sliding in front of my easel. I couldn’t help the smile on my face, thinking of Lucien. I was damn lucky to of found him when I’d first moved, and even luckier that he’d seen through all of my sour, angsty teenage shit to the lame girl underneath. 

Amren was lounging in a chair beside me, picking out paints to use that day. She barely even looked up at me when I started unpacking, her sleek, shiny black bob hiding part of her face. But her words stopped me right in my track, wiped the smile of my face.

“I heard you blew the whole football team.”

\----------------

 

I don’t even know how the rumor spread that fast.

I broke up with Tamlin the night before, after attending one of his stupid football parties at a teammate’s house. I hadn’t even talked to Helion before, but there I was, milling about his house, waiting lamely for my boyfriend to come back with a cheap beer in hand.

The football boys made every excuse to throw stuffy, loud parties, and the more I attended, the more I’d began to despise the sport. 

But Tamlin loved it, and he was like some sort of leader to them all, so I tagged along to them all.

He’d left me at the keg, yelling at a fellow teammate across the room. 

And then he never came back. I’d gone all through the many staircases and corridors of Helion’s outrageous house, searching for my lame-ass boyfriend among horny couples and throbbing music. I’d been so pissed.

But nothing had prepared me for just how pissed I’d be when I saw him, making out with Ianthe Vallahan in the master bedroom.

Thank god they were still fully clothed, because the absolute last thing I needed in my life was Ianthe’s tits seared into my brain- even if they were probably perfect because  _ nothing in my life was ever fair damnit. _

__ Luckily, I found that I was rather brilliant under pressure. I poured my cup of beer all over them, before Tamlin could hop up to chase me. Ianthe’s little shriek was music to my ears.

“Babe, babe, listen-” Tamlin said, chasing me down the staircase.

“Fuck off.” I shot back, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill.

“It’s a misunderstanding, I swear-” He pleaded, and I felt him reach out to touch my shoulder. I shook that off, his touch searing through my clothes.

“Oh, that’s just golden.” I sneered. I was just so angry- so used and taken advantage of. I’d ran right into his handsome, strong arms the moment I’d moved here, just ready to be wanted. I’d been fucking idiot, thinking that I’d somehow be some turning point for him, the love of his life, like he’d always told me. Lies, all of it.

So I ran from the house, pushing through the bodies of people- luckily, most were so caught up in themselves, occupied with the music and alcohol and horomones that they barely paid me any attention.

I was so pissed I didn’t even notice when I ran into a strong, hard body.

“Move.” Was all I could hiss out, wiping a hand over my eyes.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on-” And it was that moment that I’d really recoiled, that it had all hit me at once, and the tears weren’t going to stop. 

Of course. Of-fucking-course. The moment I let my guard down, get my heart ripped out, was the moment I run into none other than Rhysand Knight.

“Don’t touch me.” I blubber, trying to make it sting, but instead having it come out through the sobs. God, I was pathetic. I didn’t want him anywhere near me like this.

“Okay, okay.” He said- he was holding his hands up in front of him, his violet eyes wide. “No touching.”

“I- I need to leave.” I muttered, more to myself than him, but being the disgustingly chivalrous man he was, he responded instead.

“Okay. I’ll take you home.” 

“NO.” It came out as a shout, before I could hold it back. I hated feeling so vulnerable, in a too-short skirt and messy hair, makeup probably streaming down my face along with fat tears. And I was the exact opposite of a pretty crier, to add on top of that. Snot and tears and sniveling.

He’d probably tell everyone. Hell, he’d probably take pictures- rich people get off on that shit.

And Rhysand Knight, son of the New York State Senator, was no exception.

“You’re in no state to drive home.” He said, softer this time, taking me off-guard, and I had the chance to actually look at him. 

He was out of his normal Academy uniform, the one I hated to admit he wore damn well. Instead, he was in some dark, v-neck tee, a pair of jeans sculpting to strong thighs that I was definitely not looking at. I hated him, hated how he was gorgeous  _ and  _ rich and powerful. 

At least it balanced out with the fact that he was an insufferable prick.

Except, for some reason, I wasn’t so sure about that fact anymore. Not with him, standing in front of me, his lips in a thin line as he spoke kindly to me. His hands twitched, as if he was restraining himself from reaching out and touching me.

I felt myself blush, balancing it out with a scowl. “I’m fine.”

“Please.” Rhysand said, running a hand through his dark, messy hair- perfect, just like the rest of him. “I- I’d feel like shit if I didn’t help and found out later you’d gotten into an accident or something.”

“Do you promise?” I blurted out, quickly. I felt stupid as soon as the words fell out of my mouth, and I wanted to shove them back in frantically. 

He didn’t laugh at me, or ridicule me, like I thought he would.

“Promise what?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. Curious.

“That you’re not just trying to be nice to fuck with me. Make a joke out of me.” I insisted, pulling myself up to my full height. God, even with my too-tall heels (the ones Tamlin always insisted were hot, which only makes me feel a stab of anger and pain), he’s still towering over me. 

“What do you think I am?” Rhysand asks, a darker look on his face. Anger.

“Like them.” I responded, throwing a chin out in the direction of the party, still screaming on inside the house. Without the porch lights, we’d be squinting through the dark.

His face was unreadable when he responded. “I promise. I’d never do that.”

“But would you pinky promise?” I asked.

Rhysand Knight freezes on the near-dark front lawn, looking completely, utterly taken aback, and it gives me a sense of pride that I’d caught him so thoroughly off-guard. It felt better to be joking, to be laughing, than to be open and bare in front of him. Like putting on a shirt after I’d stood naked in front of him.

“Of course,” He responds back to me after a moment, his face comically, perfectly still and stern ,” _ Of course  _ I would pinky promise to that.”

I can’t help but grin at that, sticking out a pinky for him to curl his own around. He grins back, wickedly, and when our fingertips touch, I ignore the spark that ignites under my skin, pushing down a feeling that tightens in my chest. Rhysand Knight has a nice smile.

Even as he drives me home in his too-nice car, even as I feel so out of place in my scant clothing and ugly, tear-stained face, he doesn’t press the topic. He doesn’t ask about Tamlin, even though he must have seen me running from him, doesn’t ask about why I was crying. 

Instead, he talks about school. Talks about the one class we have together- AP Chemistry, which kicked my ass. Talks about our teacher and how she was half-mad, always forgetting shit and talking to the walls. Talks about the last test and how he’d made a C, talked about how his mom would yell when she found out.

Rhysand talks and talks and talks, about nothing and everything, so I won’t have to, and I’m thankful for it. 

He doesn’t say anything when he drops me off at the apartment complex, doesn’t comment on its state- it’s average, not nice, not bad, but definitely piss-poor for Prythian  Academy standards. I hate that Rhysand Knight now  _ knows, _ has now inadvertently found out something I’d buried deep. 

But  he doesn’t say anything  about it. He just hands me a slip of paper he’d scrawled his number into, telling me to  _ call text anything at any time if you need help.  _

And then he’s gone, and I’m still standing on my doorstep, frozen in the night chill, face  swollen from tears, painfully, pitifully empty.

The next morning, the rumors start, and I’m honestly still so shell-shocked at the night before that I hardly notice until it’s right in my face and everyone knows.

So, yeah, to the unsuspecting ear, Feyre Archeron has blew the entire football team. It’s a fucking lie, but this whole place is built on fucking lies, so it’s no surprise this catches on like a wildfire.

Tamlin didn’t even come to school that day, the coward. I’m still feeling empty and betrayed, but beneath that, simmering, is anger, pure and bright. If I were to see his stupid, golden face anytime soon, I’d probably be doing a lot of stupid things.

\---------------------

 

“I don’t believe it, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Amren says smoothly at my silence. 

She’s not even ashamed- I don’t think Amren quite works like the rest of us humans. I honest to god think she doesn’t know how badly words can hurt people. Not because she’s cruel or rude, but just because she doesn’t feel like us. I guess that’s how we became sort-of friends, anyways.

“If everyone believes it, doesn’t that make it true?” I add sarcastically, digging my paintbrush into my canvas a little  _ too  _ hard. Way to play it off, Feyre.

“People believe anything.” She says smoothly. “Someone started a rumor that I drink only goat blood.”

“Oh shit, that’s not true?” I gasped, holding a hand over my heart. 

Amren shoots me a glare. “I’m trying to be a good person. Please allow me to try.”

“Fine. Thank you, Amren, for proving that everyone here is terrible and this school should burn.” 

Amren snorts, dipping her paintbrush into our shared water container, swirling the thin bristles around the edge. 

“You want to hear how I heard about the rumor?” Amren asks quietly.

“Not particularly.” I sigh. Now she  _ had  _ to just be rubbing it in, pouring salt into the wound. I just wanted to drop it already and focus on the task at hand- thickening up my art portfolio, preparing for the dreaded AP exam. 

Actually, I was interested in how she heard- Amren was more of an outcast here than even  _ I  _ was. I knew she had a few close friends, but none that would be privy to this nasty rumor. 

“Dagdan was telling people all about how promiscuous you seemed to be,” Amren continues, and the thought of Dagdan, another football player, spreading the rumor makes my blood boil. The bastard. I wouldn’t touch him, even with a gun to my head.

“Rhysand butted in and politely informed him that if he was so obsessed with sucking dicks, he could point him in the direction of a few men he knew that would be happy to be serviced.” She finishes.

I laugh so hard that I have to put down my paintbrush.

Even Amren is grinning when I look up at her, still staring intently at her canvas, a wry grin creeping on her features.

I wish I could’ve seen Dagdan’s face, probably steaming at the ears as his friends tried to stifle their own laughter. God, they all needed to be humiliated every once in a while, just like they did everyone else.

“I’m surprised Rhysand thought to interfere.” I scoffed, trying to lighten the mood, switch the subject. Amren is difficult to talk to, at times, but maybe if I brought up a murder documentary again, she’d change the subject for good.

“I’m not.” She says simply, still tracing at the canvas with her paintbrush. I don’t really know how to respond to that, so I just pop my earbuds back in, trying to make something of the blank canvas in front of me.

 

\---------------

 

The rest of the day runs smoothly, a small miracle for the shitty past twenty-four hours.

Lucien hounds me, not letting anyone within ten feet talk shit about me. Even though I feel pathetic, using  him as a human shield against all of it, I’m thankful for it. Hopefully it’ll all be gone by tomorrow, the spoiled, rich students grasping at another juicy bit of gossip.

I go immediately from school to the pub, dreading the long shift ahead of.

Ever since I’d moved to London, I’d helped Nesta out at her pub. She never insisted that I had to, but I felt like it was the least I could do. She supported me ever since dad had died a little over six months ago, and she’d tried her hardest to help me in all the ways she could. But Nesta and I are a little too alike- we’re terrible at nurturing, at being affectionate.

Honestly, I think her way of saying she loved me was by buying me my first can of pepper spray.

Her little bar- the Cauldron- wasn’t the nicest in the city, and that was putting it nicely. It was dingy and dim, situated in an odd part of town. Not quite nice, not quiet nasty, attracting crowds from both sides. At least it was large- if not oddly so, for a bar.

It wasn’t the most  _ legal  _ thing for me to work at the bar while underage, but a lot of stuff got pushed under the table here, I server alcohol to customers, as long as Nesta gave the ‘okay’. Which basically boiled down to Nesta saying ,”I don’t give a fuck, just get their money somehow.”   
When I came in that afternoon, shoving my backpack across the counter of the bar, Nesta is already behind it, polishing glasses while watching the television above the bar.

“Got a busy night, probably.” She says, not looking at me.

“Great.” I shoot back, grabbing a rag to help her. A crowded, loud pub tonight- the cherry on top of a shit sundae that was my day.

“There’s a band booked tonight.”

“Really?” I don’t remember the last time we’d had live music- probably at  least a month ago. We have a nice-sized stage, but music had always been a hit or a miss here, with the varied crowd  we attracted. Too quiet, or too loud, too folksy or too angry. Nothing made  _ everyone  _ happy.

“Yeah. Not sure how it’ll work out, but I thought I’d give them a try.” Nesta sighs, and she looks at me then- I can see just how tired she is, the bags under her eyes. Even with them, she’s still startlingly beautiful. Sharp, stern features, full lips, and wavy, golden hair combined with a slim figure. Luckily, her usually-nasty attitude warded off all advances.

But if she hadn’t yet snapped at me- she must be exhausted.

“Go take a nap, Nesta.” I tell her, before  she can find another task. She grumbles at me,  saying a few words under her breath at my bossy tone, but she finally stalks off to our apartment, just around the corner.

I’m used to being the only one on shift for the afternoon hours- with only one or two customers that come in, it’s uneventful. Usually homework time.

But this time is much, much more eventful.

I’d thought  that the prospect of a packed bar tonight was the cherry on top- but in fact, the cherry was actually what happened next.

Rhysand Knight walks into the Cauldron, and I’m just like he was last night, shocked at a pinky promise.

We make eye contact at the same moment, and I’m waiting  for him to grin, to tease me mercilessly about that fact that he saved my ass last night. To bring it up like I owed him a life debt for his  _ one  _ good deed. 

But instead, Rhysand’s face drops. 

For a moment, something hits me hard in the chest. Was it that bad to see me? Did he really regret helping me last night  _ that  _ much?

It stings more than I let on.

He doesn’t run away like I expected him to, after that weird look crossed his face. He’s vulnerable and open like I’d never seen him at school, and I think it’s probably exactly how I looked to him last night. Minus the snot and tears.

Instead, he faces it head-on.

“I didn’t know you worked here, Feyre.” Rhysand says, that worried look still on his face, my name curling off his tongue in a way that has me gripping the glass in my hand harder. 

“Is there a problem with that?” I ask, but it’s without a bite. I’m more curious now, at what could possibly put that concern on his features. He’s not in his school uniform- instead, he’s in something similar to what I saw last night. Except in the daylight, I can see a few swirls of black ink threatening to expose itself when he tugs on the hem of his v-neck, a nervous tick. 

“Depends.” Rhysand says, noticing me watching, tracing his collarbone with my eyes, and I have the decency to blush. It seemed to of snapped him back to normal, though, because he’s smirking, his violet eyes mischievous.

“Can you keep a pinky promise, Feyre darling?” He purrs, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. The absolute prick.

“Of course I can.” I shoot back, and we do the stupid promise again, even if it means absolutely nothing and yet  _ something  _ at the same time.

“I’m here because my band plays here tonight.” Rhysand says, his voice a little quieter as he delivers the news.

My jaw drops, probably comically so, but for one he’s caught me utterly, completely off-guard. 

A band.

The first thing I think of is how odd it is- the boy who sits beside me in Chemistry, bugging me from the start of the semester, since I moved to London, always asking for help even if I knew damn well he was better off than me. The shameless flirt, the one who surprisingly had the decency to back off once Tamlin entered the picture. The one who’d occasionally even listened to me complain in class about my then-boyfriend, even if all he could offer were simple nods. 

I knew absolutely nothing about him, I realized then. I thought I knew him so well, like a well-read, overused book, after seeing him in Chemistry every day. But I knew nothing about the stranger in front of me.

I suppose I should’ve already figured that out after last night.

The second thought, though, is the fact that Rhysand’s dad would  _ murder  _ him if he found out his son was in some angsty teenage band.

“Does your dad know?” I ask, my voice little more than a hushed whisper. I can’t help the slight, amused grin that pops up on my face.

“Of course not.” He scoffs. “What do you think the pinky promise is for?”

“Thank you,” I say between fits of laughter ,”This revelation has honestly made my day.”

“Well I’m glad  _ someone  _ is amused at my deepest, darkest secret.” Rhysand scoffs, eyes twinkling with amusement. He’s drumming his long fingers on the bar between us, leaning towards me. I wonder what all I don’t know about him- for once, I want to know more. He’s interesting, such a goddamn relief compared to the rest of them at that school.

There’s a loud crash at the door that breaks our contact.

“Fuck, Cassian, look up for once.” A quiet voice hisses, the loud smack of a hand on skin following it.

“I couldn’t see over the amp.” A louder voice whines.

And sure enough, Cassian and Azriel are now standing in my bar, both looking like deer caught in the headlights. 

I’d never even talked to them before- both football players, like Tamlin, but rarely at the parties. Both friends with Rhysand- close friends, apparently, if being in the  same band was any indication. And both, of course, attractive as sin. 

Cassian was the first to speak, and I’d realized quickly why a pretty face couldn’t make up for a loud mouth.

“I’m really hurt that you blew the whole football team but skipped me, for some reason.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m picturing the Illyrian boy’s band to be of the angsty angsty angsty genre, and since Azriel is vocals, I pictured it being sorta like a Joyce Manor / Front Bottoms sorta situation. 
> 
> The song referenced is Twin Sized Mattress by The Front Bottoms! It’s awesome, and it’s gonna be setting up some Mor / Azriel conflict in future chapters.

The moment right after Cassian inserted his foot into his mouth summed up all three boys more than I could ever hope to learn on my own.

Azriel brought both hands up to cover his face, shaking his head, his mouth open in a dumbfounded expression. 

Rhysand immediately looked to me, his amused grin being replaced with a hesitant, worried expression, waiting for my reaction.

And Cassian, oh Cassian. He just looked around the room expectantly, as if he’d simply asked about the weather, and not the scandalous rumors surrounding my evidently-eventful sex  life.

God, after the shitty day- okay, shitty week, possibly month- it was all I could do to just slam down the glass I’d been cleaning, and laugh.

Rhysand was grinning uncomfortably, as if he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or ask if I was okay- it only made me laugh harder.

“Okay, I’m offended.” Cassian grumbled.

“I don’t think we’ve formally met before. Feyre Archeron.” I said, finally, biting back another peal of laughter as I extended my hand out to him. “And I will not give you- or any football player for that matter- a blowjob. Thank you.”

“I mean, I knew it was just a rumor. Obviously.” Cassian said, quickly, reaching out to give me a bruising handshake. 

“I’m Azriel, and I’m sorry my  _ acquaintance  _ is a total ass.” Azriel said from beside him, giving me a much more polite handshake than his counterpart. He reminded me of Lucien, albeit a bit darker and brooding. 

Azriel dragged Cassian along to the stage area of the bar, grumbling the whole time. The two were an interesting pair, to say the least. 

“God, I’m sorry. Cassian doesn’t think about what he-,” Rhysand says, pausing mid-sentence, staring at the exposed beam above the bar. “Actually, he just doesn’t think, period.”

“He’s fine. I know he’s not actively  _ trying  _ to be a douche.” I told him, shaking my head. I couldn’t help but smile a bit at it all. I’d seen Azriel and Cassian in the hallways all the time, and I’d made a point to avoid them just like I did the rest of the student body at Prythian. It was odd- and a bit refreshing, though I hated to admit it- to see them outside of there,  to see them act so human. So young.

“We’re not  _ all _ assholes, Feyre.” Rhysand responds. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” I shot back, turning my back on him to grab a glass. For a moment I tensed- surely he wouldn’t bring up last night just to prove a point. I hoped I made it clear that last night was off limits, never-even-happened material. 

“Have you done the Chemistry homework yet?” He asked, effectively changing the subject.  _ Thank god. _

__ “Of course not.” I snorted. So very, very ladylike. 

“I need help with mine.” He sighed, dramatically draping himself across the bar, throwing the back of his hand over his forehead.

Across the room, Azriel sighed as Cassian positioned an amp wrong, again.

“It’s a good thing the school has tutors, then, isn’t it?” 

“It’s an even better thing that my gorgeous lab partner is a genius, isn’t it?” 

I rolled my eyes, playing it off, but a  _ little  _ part of me preened on the inside, the stupid girlish part of me.   _ Gorgeous. _ Still in my stuffy Academy uniform, I doubted that could be true, but it was still nice.

Oh, he was playing me like a fiddle, but I was here to stop the music.

“Find someone else.” I insisted, not daring to look at his puppy-dog eyes, staring up at me from where he’d rested his head on the bar.

“But-”

“Rhysie!” Cassian yelled from across the bar, making both of us jump. I’d almost forgotten they were over there. “Get your ass over here for a soundcheck!”

Rhysand stuck out his tongue, giving me a boyish salute as he sulked over to his friends- Azriel, watching our exchange with a tilted, curious expression, and Cassian, bobbing his head to music only he could hear.

And I definitely did not watch him as he left, would  _ never  _ look at his ass as he walked away. That would be completely, totally unladylike of me, and his firm backside in those dark jeans were not anywhere in my line of sight. Nope, never.

It was going to be a long night.

 

\------------

 

“I didn’t realize how big a crowd it would draw.” Nesta muttered from beside me at the bar, wiping up a mess I couldn’t see. She slaved over this bar like it was her own child, and I supposed it was, in a way.

She wasn’t wrong in the least bit- it was only seven, and yet the bar was stuffed with people. Mostly younger, a demographic we rarely hit. Lots of college kids and teenagers, and I knew I’d be serving up virgin drinks and asking for IDs constantly tonight.

I was waiting to see familiar faces from Prythian Academy, cringing at the thought- but I hadn’t recognized anyone so far. I’d thought Rhysand was being overdramatic, calling it a secret, because there was no way he- Rhysand Knight, center of the entire fucking Prythian universe- could get away with some weird night-life identity. 

But the more I thought about it, the more genius it was.  _ Of course  _ it wouldn’t attract the Prythian crowd, or get back to his father somehow. They were way too prideful and vain to be seen here, with these  _ normal  _ people.

Which made even more stunning the fact that Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel were here.

They blended in so well with everyone that I could almost-  _ almost-  _ forget that they were rich kids playing a role for a few hours. Maybe this was how they got their kicks, by pretending to be normal like the rest of us. 

There was one girl that stuck out, though. A tall, pretty redhead, dressed way too nice for a place like this. If she went to Prythian, we definitely didn’t have any classes together.

I saw her make a beeline to Rhysand, up near the stage; he wore a smile on his face when he saw her, but it was strained, tight. She reached out to touch his shoulder, a weirdly intimate motion.

Oh.

It was his girlfriend. I was so dumb- of course his flirting was just Rhysand being Rhysand. He had a girlfriend, and they were now arguing quietly about something, and I was watching like some creep who couldn’t take a hint.

Swallowing a lump in my throat, I turned to ask Nesta where the extra Cokes were at- of course, they were the first thing to go when people realized we’d be IDing- but I found she was very preoccupied.

“You’re underage.” I heard her say dryly, shooting a withering glare at Cassian, of all people. Oh, the poor, poor fool he was, bugging my bitch of a sister.

“Technically, for drinking.” Cassian said, leaning in towards her, a wicked grin on his face that had me trying to contain a laugh. “But I can assure you my other  _ skills  _ are anything but underage-”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” She huffed, throwing him a glare as she slammed a glass in front of him- water. Good. I don’t think I ever want to see Cassian under the influence, if this is how he is sober.

“It means you wouldn’t even notice if I was only seventeen.” Cassian said with a shrug, almost hurt. “C’mon, it wasn’t that difficult to understand.”

“First, I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last  _ boy  _ on Earth.” Nesta shot back, emphasizing his age- I winced, because damn, Cassian wasn’t that bad. Annoying, possibly challenged in the intellectual-side of things, but nice and very attractive, even if I’d never admit it to his face.

But Cassian didn’t so much as blink an eye, that dumb grin still on his face.

“Second, I’m engaged, asshole.” Nesta said, twirling her fingers in front of his face. That was when Cassian blinked, staring at the ring on her finger. 

“Well,” He said finally, stepping back. He raised his hands up, a humble expression on his face. Admitting defeat honorably.

“You’re not married yet.” Cassian said with a wicked grin.

He shot off into the crowd of people before she could scream at him, leaving behind me and Nesta, absolutely furious.

“Oh, Tomas would love him.” I mentioned her fiance, even if my sarcasm was a little uncalled for.

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

Ouch, but okay.

 

\----------------

 

The performance was weird.

Weird, because it was simultaneously something I never would’ve imagined the boys doing- but at the same time, it was like watching them fall into themselves, fit perfectly into their own skins on that stage.

They started with something fiery- the drumbeat starting it all, courtesy of Cassian, ever at home among the drumset. His hair was tied into a knot, his white shirt sweaty by the end, showing tattoos I hadn’t seen earlier that night.

And the guitars- angsty, loud, angry at times. It was an odd experience, because it was something I’d never listen to on my own, but seeing them do it- I could listen for hours. 

Azriel sang like he’d been born to be on that stage. Gone was the meek, quiet voice, replaced with a rich, baritone voice that held lyrics that made my heart twist. 

And Rhysand. 

I never understood the love so many girls had for guitar players. That stupid infatuation, liking  _ musical boys  _ always seemed so ridiculous to me- anyone could play music, if they put in the effort. 

But I understood that night. I really, really understood. 

In the ways he’d lean into the melody he played on the electric guitar, looking to Azriel as they worked together, a unit propelled by Cassian’s constant gear-like percussions in the background. The way he’d close his eyes tightly, his brow furrowed, his mouth slightly parted, when he played something intense.

_ She hopes I'm cursed forever to sleep on a twin sized mattress  _

_ In somebody's attic or basement my whole life _

_ Never graduating up in size to add another _

_ And my nightmares will have nightmares every night _

As Azriel sang the last verse of the final piece, I couldn’t help but notice his tensed shoulders, his eyes shut so tightly it almost looked painful. I wondered what it all meant for him, and even though I didn’t know the guy that well, I hoped none of it applied to him.

They finished in a flurry of motion, the crowd going nuts around them.

Nesta had left a while ago, after staying for the first few songs; her face was unreadable as she watched them, watched the crowd. Probably wondering if she’d made the right gamble, letting them play here.

“So?” A voice behind me asked, well after the crowds had finally dispersed. It had to be almost midnight by now.

“Looking for compliments, are we?” I shot back, setting my broom aside to give Rhysand an amused look. I looked around him, seeing if the mysterious redhead girlfriend was near- but  she was nowhere to be found in the few people left.

“I mean, I already know we did awesome.” He scoffed, pretending to throw imaginary hair over his shoulder. 

“It was-” I swallowed, feeling weird, trying to explain how it was. How it felt. “Not what I expected.”

“Angsty?”

“Oh,  _ so  _ angsty.” I laughed. “But I’d expect nothing less.”

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” 

“I never said that.”

 

\------------------------

 

The weekend flew by, especially since I spent most of it sleeping and doing homework. It was one thing Prythian Academy  _ loved _ , homework. Lots of it, and all of it way too hard.

But it kept me distracted, and that was worth it. 

After their performance, Cassian, Azriel, and Rhysand had stuck around to help me close the bar, even though I insisted they didn’t have to. I actually felt bad, making them do work, but I made up for it by letting them drink a little. Just a beer, and I knew Nesta wouldn’t do more than grumble at that.

But they’d stuck around and we’d talked into the early morning hours, pretending to be people we weren’t.

And now it would be weird, going back to school with them. I’d forgotten all about Tamlin and the rumors, too, until I checked my phone Saturday afternoon.

_ Babe, can we please talk? _

__ _ I’ve given you a few days, but we really should talk _

__ _ I think you’re  overreacting, you saw something way different than  what it was _

__ That last one made me actually laugh- yeah, Tamlin, I go around making out with my male friends for fun, too. Just a misunderstanding. Ooops, we accidentally fell into one another’s lips. And stayed there.

At least Lucien was there, ready to talk about anything and everything not related to Tamlin and my gossiped sex-life.

I hadn’t told him about the band, though. I did make a promise, after all, even if it was stupid. And part of me didn’t  _ want  _ to share that with anyone else. It was mine, just like their secret was now mine.

I walked into Chemistry on Monday morning with a weird feeling twisting in my stomach, something I couldn’t quite place. When I saw Rhysand, sitting at our lab table, I felt lighter, somehow.

“Party a lot this weekend?” I asked him, sliding into my seat beside him. He looked well-rested, contrary to my comment, and was in that damn cream-colored uniform sweater, complimenting his tanned skin. 

He was already working on his chemistry classwork, writing out problems. I hadn’t noticed that he was left-handed, and if I looked hard enough, I could see calluses on his fingertips, from the hard ridges of guitar strings. Part of  me wondered what they’d feel like, on skin,  _ my  _ skin-

“Oh, definitely. Partied real hard with some AP Calculus textbooks.” Rhysand said firmly, nodding his head. I was so, so thankful for his words, breaking me out of my thoughts. “I even passed out on top of one.”

“Wow, what a whore.” I snorted, combing my fingers through the curls in my hair. I’d tried to curl it today- to make myself feel more confident, a big middle finger to the rumor- but I’d done a piss-poor job at trying to tame the waves.

I hadn’t noticed the way Rhysand had gone stiff, gripping his pencil hard, pausing on a chemistry equation. 

“Rhysand?” I asked, reaching out to touch his arm.

He immediately pulled away, and I felt a rush of shame come over me. Of course he wouldn’t want me touching him- he had a girlfriend, for god’s sake. 

He just shook his head, putting up a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. 

“I’m good, just, uh-” He laughed, weakly. “Spaced out there for a minute.”

“Yeah, okay.” I said. “I’m sorry if I said something.”

“No, no, you’re fine. I just remembered something.” Rhysand said, still squinting at the problem on his page, as if it would eat him up and get him out of this room. I wouldn’t mind falling through the floor as well, since I had such a penchant for saying all the wrong things.

“Well,” I sighed, setting down me pencil dramatically, catching his full attention. 

“I must say, the performance Friday night  _ was  _ pretty great.” 

It was worth it, to let go of my pride and actually give a compliment to the overconfident guy, to see that broad grin stretch across his face.

“That’s great and all, but how do I know you’re telling the truth, Feyre darling?” Rhysand all but purred, drumming one finger over his lips, contemplating.

“You’re stuck in middle school, I swear,” I laughed, already knowing his next words.

“You’ve gotta pinky promise me that you’re telling the truth, of course.”

“Well, of course.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m excited to include Nesta more! Especially because Cassian is around. And of course I’m going to have to make that happen.

That week went on  _ forever _ , I swear. I’m surprised I didn’t get out of school Friday with some full-on wizard beard and a newfound love for bland oatmeal. 

We had a test in AP Chemistry, which was difficult to pay attention to with Rhysand’s whisperings to me his funny little quips under his breath that had me cackling. 

“This is it,” He whispered, an unnervingly bright, fake smile on his face. “This is the moment I really make good on those threats of dropping out.”

“Don’t take me down with you.” I hissed, crossing through a multiple choice answer I was  _ pretty  _ sure wasn’t right. Like, thirty percent sure.

“If I go down, Feyre darling, I’m taking you with me.” He shot back, under his breath, thumbing through the pages of the test; I didn’t have to look up at him to see that sly smirk on his features. 

“I’m not your darling.” I said, a little too loud; Mr. Suriel looked up from his desk, that deathly pale face twisted into a scowl as we made eye contact.

Rhysand bit his lip to contain a laugh, and the action sent heat running to much more than just my face. 

“Fuck you.” I shot back, quieter this time. God, I’d have to go back to question thirty-two, because Rhysand had distracted me from that one- I was pretty confident that writing in the answer to a multiple choice test was frowned upon.

“Well, all you had to do was ask.”

I broke my pencil lead on the paper, scratching a hole through question thirty-two.

I didn’t have to look at him to know he was biting his lip again, trying not to laugh at just how well he could get me pissed off. Prick.

But at least he was interesting- I had to give him that. In the monotonous, never-ending sea of schooldays, I could at least look forward to Rhysand’s joking, back and forth between us. It was such a goddamn relief, with how uptight and bitchy the rest of the student population was here. 

“Chemistry project, you and me.” Rhysand said smoothly after class on Friday, sweeping up his textbooks with a graceful motion. He didn’t even look at me as he said it, his voice smooth and sweet.

“A bit confident, are we?” I grumbled. I could pick someone else if I  _ wanted  _ to, damnit. I had other friends. Well, other acquaintances.

There was Alis, the grouchy daughter of a wealthy businessman, who I’d once borrowed a pencil from. That means we were sorta friends. 

Fine. I didn’t have anyone.

“I’ll text you tonight about when we can meet up.” Rhysand said, brushing off my last comment. Prick, prick, prick-

“Oh, but I don’t have your number.” Rhysand said, looking innocently surprised, his eyebrows raised high and breathing an over-dramatic sigh. 

“Smooth. Were you planning that all class period?” 

“All week, darling.” He shot back, after I scrawled my number into a piece of notebook paper, making sure the numbers were difficult to read- he’d have to give it a few tries. Good.

“I just need a B.” I told him, rolling my eyes at the way he gingerly folded up the paper, making a show of tucking it safely into the pocket of his school-issued jacket. 

“I’ll try, but we may need multiple sessions- I was thinking fifteen, at the minimum, perhaps more-”

Oh, he was insufferable.

“I’m not wasting my time.” I shot back; as we walked through the hallway, people moved around him. It was weird- when it was just me, or Lucien, people wouldn’t budge, leaving us to nudge and push and scramble through the congested hallways.

But for Rhysand, they moved out of the way, some looking downright terrified, others giving him tight-lipped grins as a substitute for a hello. 

I wondered what they’d think if they knew their class president, preppy, spoiled son of a state senator, spent his free time playing punk rock tunes at crappy bars. For the  _ normal  _ people this Academy despised.

I’d been so busy looking at him, the way he confidently walked, as if he owned it all- that I missed the strong side I’d ran into, the flash of dark, red hair looming in my vision.

“Get the fuck out of- oh, hello.” Eris Vanserra said, his face changing from entitled  irritation, to a sly, amused smirk. If his Lucien was a fox, his brother was a wolf, always out for blood from the weak.

Just seeing the football player’s face make my blood churn.

There were other reasons for me to despise Eris,  other than the fact that he was one of Tamlin’s close teammates, someone who’d been spreading the shit about me around the school. There was also the fact that he was a bastard, through and through, and he made Lucien’s life a living hell. I couldn’t count the number of times Lucien had lamely made an excuse for why we needed to study together, showing up on my doorstep with bruises dotting his skin.

I tried to move past him, a little opening another student had made- Eris just put an arm out, trapping me against the wall.

I saw Rhysand stiffen, his face turning stony. I spoke up.

“Hello, Eris. Don’t you have something better to do?”  _ Than to give me shit. _

Eris just smiled, a wolfish grin that made me scowl. 

“Nope, you’re exactly the person I was looking for. Just wanted to thank you, of course. For all the  _ fun  _ times we’ve had together.” Eris said, innocently, that grin still on his features.

“Believe me, Eris, you’re the last boy I’d ever touch.” I shot back, all venom. He wasn’t even phased.

“Really? Content just to fuck my brother?” He asked, his golden eyes- so like Lucien, except bitter and malicious, where my friend’s were soft and worrisome.

The friend I most definitely had not fucked, thank you.

I guess that was the final straw in all of it. My blood went cold, eerily still, because the last thing I’d wanted to do was bring Lucien into all this shit Tamlin had stirred up.

So, I did the most logical thing.

In a wholly-Nesta fashion, I slammed my fist into Eris Vanserra’s jaw.

It was a nice right hook, connecting with his sharp jawline in a hard hit- a punch I knew Nesta would be proud of, since she’d taught it to me, after all.

I hadn’t paid attention to Rhysand after Eris spoke, so focused on the latter’s stupid, golden face, on my own anger. I hadn’t notice that Rhysand had lunged after him as well, going to land a hit himself. 

But I’d been first, and he was now utterly speechless, blinking at me.

“ _ You fucking bitch-”  _ Eris hissed, holding his already-bruising face, pure hatred in his eyes. 

“Back off, Vanserra. Your father won’t be happy if you hit a girl.” Rhysand said smoothly, his voice little more than a dark growl. 

It was true- Lucien’s dad was a ruthless businessman, and the Vanserra boys- or at least  one of them- were heir to a fortune that rivaled a small country. A family of perfect masks, all kept up to make sure the media knew just how flawless and moral they were.

Bullshit, I thought, thinking back to Lucien’s many bruises.

And like everyone else here, Eris thought I was somebody too, somebody of importance, just like every other student at Prythian Academy.

“Fuck you.” Eris spat at me, stalking off into the crowd of people that had accumulated. Great, more rumors about me, more pieces of gossip I’d hear whispered in the bathrooms.

Rhysand just put a hand on my back, leading us through the crowd. Normally, I would’ve argued at his touch, but I was too pissed off to care. 

And not just at Eris Vanserra, either.

“Were you about to hit him?” I hissed at Rhysand, clenching my fists, repeatedly. I almost wanted to land another punch to Rhysand, just to give him a piece of my mind.

“Yes.” He said simply, shooting a glare at me that I’d never seen directed at me before. I turned my nose up at him.

“You’re the fucking senator’s son, Rhys. You realize what that would’ve done to your- your-,”

“My appearance?” Rhysand asked, and I could feel him curl his fingers into my loose school sweater, feel him seething just as I was.

“You have consequences. We both know that I don’t.” I reminded him.

“We both also know that my appearance is  _ nothing,  _ Feyre. All shit.” 

He says it so quietly, so full of bitter distaste, that I don’t respond. For once, Rhysand is not the insufferable, teasing bastard I’d sat by in Chemistry, but rather a boy trying to escape his future.

“And just so you know,” Rhysand said, his violet eyes burning as we rounded a quiet corner. “That punch of yours was  _ magnificent _ .”

He turns into the other direction before I can answer, his steps tense and strung tight, like he needed to let out a few punches of his own. I don’t know why it all got him so wound up, why Eris’s words hurt him so much, but I don’t want to ask.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

_ You punched my brother??? _

__ Lucien’s texts come in a frenzy, and I can’t help but wince. He’s in another building for the next class hour, but somehow he already heard about it all. Fuck.

_ Jesus Christ Feyre _

__ _ Do you know what you’ve just fucking done?? _

__ _ You thought Tamlin was bad, god fey _

__ I turn the ringer off, slipping it back into my pocket. I can’t look at it now, especially not with the fact underneath it all. It wouldn’t just be me paying for it- it would be Lucien, too. He was the one who had to live with them all.

It was a stupid, selfish action, my knuckles still burning from it, but I can’t help the satisfaction that still creeped upon me.

\----------------

 

I went home after that, because I couldn’t face the rest of my classes, the adrenaline and anger still coursing through me.

“What the  _ fuck,  _ Feyre.” Nesta had shouted as soon as I’d stepped a foot into our apartment. 

She was standing in the middle of the kitchen, her phone thrown on the counter in front of her. She was still in one of her flimsy nightgowns- the one Tomas had informed me he liked, many times over, the creep- her hair undone, her face a mess. Still in her nightgown at one in the afternoon. God, looking at her like this, I hadn’t realized how skinny she’d gotten lately-

“You punched a Vanserra?” She shouted, gritting her teeth as she stared me down. A look that would’ve sent most running.

“Yeah, I did.” I told her, holding my chin high.

“God, you’re such an idiot. You get this perfect schooling after dad dies, get room and board and the freedom to do whatever the fuck you want, and this is how you spend it? Stirring  up shit?” Nesta wasn’t pulling her punches today- and what a coincidence. Neither was I.

“You wanna know what’s going on?” I yelled back, a rush of anger going through me, aching in my bones. “I found Tamlin in bed with another chick.”

Nesta blinked a moment.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She said back, cooly. Trying to hide the concern that crept into her voice.

“Oh, that’s not even all of it. He and his football buddies decided to tell the school I’d somehow screwed all of them- a goddamn lie, of course- and Eris Vanserra decided to say it to my face today, and a little more. So yeah. I punched the bastard.”

Nesta still had that look on her face- to anyone else, it would just be blank apprehension, but I knew her well enough to see that she was taken aback, unsure of what to do.

“I don’t know how to raise a kid.” She’d told me when I first moved in with her.

“You’ve only got eight years on me.” I’d assured her, mainly because I hated the word. Kid.

“Yeah, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do with a kid.”

And after that, for my first night there, Nesta had poured herself a glass of whiskey. And then another. And another. 

And she looked the same way now, as she did that first night. So lost.

“I didn’t know.” She said simply.

“I didn’t tell you. How were you supposed to?” I said, feeling guilt creep up on me, taming that bit of anger. I was exhausted, underneath it all.

“I- I’m supposed to know. To be some sort of guardian for you.” Nesta said, the words seeming to pain her. She was standing so still, so tensed, that I had to look away.

“Why aren’t you at the bar?” I asked her, willing her to change the subject. I sat down my backpack, sliding into the seat at the kitchen bar.

“I closed it today. I…” Nesta trailed off, looking around the kitchen, as if she’d find the words there. “I woke up sick.”

“And you didn’t call anyone else in?” I asked, thinking about the few other workers she had- not the most reliable bunch, honestly, or the hardest workers, but a few good people. I know Isaac would’ve came in if she asked.

“Not today, Feyre.” Nesta says, and I understand the meaning there well. We weren’t going to talk about what it all meant today.

And maybe I was just sick of fighting, sick of being angry. So I agreed.

Nesta pulled out a few glasses, a few bottles I hadn’t seen in the kitchen before. I wonder if she’d hid them. 

She slides me a glass, and I try not to act surprised.

Nesta never let me drink- she’d yelled at me that night I’d shared a beer with Rhysand and his band, not because I’d let them drink. But because I took part in it myself.

“It’s been a rough day.” She says, simply, still looking elsewhere. Stilly stony and impenetrable as ever.

It burns in my throat, but it’s nice. I can see why Nesta uses it so much, with all the hard days she’s had.

\--------------

 

_ I’m sorry for getting upset earlier _

__ It’s the first text I’m sent, by an unknown number. It clicks after a few seconds.

_ Rhysand? _

__ I go back to my open textbook, scrawling a few more answers I prayed were correct, before it buzzes again.

_ Well, of course. _

__ Prick.

Before I can say anything, he texts back again.

_ Eris Vanserra and I have a past. He hurt one of my closest friends. _

__ I don’t know how to respond to that- I don’t feel like I should ask more, but I want to know more. I want to know all of Rhysand’s stories, want to know what makes him the person he is. He’s interesting, like a book, and even if I have dyslexia, I still look forward to reading it.

_ I’m sorry.  _

__ Weak, but true.

_ It’s quite alright, darling. Seeing you punch him was truly the highlight of my day. _

__ Against the part of me screaming not to, I punch his name into his contact. Even though I  _ know  _ he’d be gloating about it the next day.

_ Rhys: So, when would you like to visit my humble abode and take part in some chemistry? _

__ I snort at that. 

_ Feyre: I think you and I have very different ideas of how this will go _

__ _ Rhys: Head out of the gutter, darling. _

__ I punched my fingers into the phone a little too hard.

_ Feyre: Tomorrow afternoon. No funny business. _

__ _ Rhys: Of course not. _

__ _ Rhys: …... _

__ _ Rhys: Does that mean I have to return the bouncy house? _

__

 


End file.
